


Deal with the Devil

by junipersand



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Deal With the Devil, post-schlatt's funeral, villain!bbh arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2020-11-20
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:27:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27643427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junipersand/pseuds/junipersand
Summary: “I wanted to do this when everyone was here, but I don’t think that they liked you very much.”Puffy blew her bangs from her eyes. “Did you think he had any close friends, Bad?”Bad turned to her, his hood hanging low. As he lit the flint and steel on soul sand, blue fire erupted in the wake of a spark, giving the man an eerie glow.“No,” Bad said. “I don’t think he has any.”He stood back and bowed to Schlatt’s funeral when no one else did.Or:Schlatt’s ghost returns to make a deal with BadBoyHalo. Help him return to life and his rightful seat as Emperor, and he would have Bad rule by his side.
Relationships: Darryl Noveschosch & JSchlatt (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 178





	Deal with the Devil

“I wanted to do this when everyone was here, but I don’t think that they liked you very much.”

Puffy blew her bangs from her eyes. “Did you think he had any close friends, Bad?”

Bad turned to her, his hood hanging low. As he lit the flint and steel on soul sand, blue fire erupted in the wake of a spark, giving the man an eerie glow.

“No,” Bad said. “I don’t think he has any.”

He stood back and bowed to Schlatt’s funeral when no one else did.

“We can bring Schlatt back to life, Bad.” Quackity raised his arms like a mad scientist. “Have you heard of a little word called _power_? Schlatt can be our political puppet, and L’Manburg can be yours.”

Sam crossed his arms. “I don’t think that we should be bringing back the dead.” He glanced at the destruction that had roamed free throughout Badlands, all caused by a single person. “It’s bad juujuu. Especially with you digging up his grave and all.”

He tried not to look at his leader. Bad was strangely silent and quipped with jabbing insults ever since he was notified of the damage done to his structures and statues. Ever since the funeral rites he hosted, he didn’t seem to be in a good mood since. It was supposed to be a serious, somber event, yet the members of L’Manburg had done nothing but— _literally_ —piss on Schlatt’s coffin.

Bad didn’t speak of it, but Sam could sense his anger rising like a steady tide, ready to swallow everyone that gets within his range.

“None of this destruction would have happened when Schlatt was in power.” Bad raised his hands to the cratered castle that once belonged to Eret. He showed her the burnt house that Punz built a long time ago. “You’re right. He was a bad president, but he did _one_ thing right.”

Bad passed through the portal to hell.

“He got rid of TommyInnit.”

He disappeared before Puffy could call out to him.

Quackity dared to trap him in hell. He dared to destroy the portal that was the gateway to the Overworld, all for the sake of Bad’s agreement to bring the tyrant back to the land of the living. Because he knew, even if he brought Schlatt back to life, he would need someone to control the undead. Someone strong enough to pull the reins on the man’s thirst for power.

Bad fled the nether before Quackity could get what he wanted. Messing with the dead was never the answer.

_Avenge me._

As much as Bad was a peace-loving person, he had his limits. Now that he’s entered as a part of future wars, the problem that he turned a blind eye on had become a reason for his wrath. Before, it didn’t matter how many times Tommy cursed at him how or many times he was ridiculed for his attempts to extend the Badlands. However, times have changed, and the attacks became personal.

Ant, Sam and Skeppy were all occupied with their own things. Ant was off to spend time with his partner, Sam was working on more machinery in his base, and Skeppy was nowhere to be seen. This meant that Bad was left alone in the Badlands, alone against the assaults that were all directed towards him. All because he was the one that hosted Schlatt’s funeral. He was the one that dared honor a tyrant’s death.

In the middle of the noon, he woke to Tommy defacing Skeppy’s statue and left his face as a butt. As hilarious as it sounded, Bad was devastated, furious at the signs that had unsightly words scribbled on them as evidence of the wrongdoing. He kicked the signs off the path into a pile, his expression a blank face with bags under his eyes.

“Your disc is gone, TommyInnit.” With a lighted match, he set the signs aflame.

In the middle of the night, Bad headed towards Schlatt’s funeral site. Not because he was visiting him in particular, but it was because it had been defaced. Again.

He rebuilt the arches, the coffin and brushed soot off the painting. It didn’t matter who destroyed the site, because all of L’Manburg despised the tyrant. The hatred they possessed ascended to his death, and they would humiliate his corpse as a form of revenge. Revenge against the hardships they were put through when he was in power.

Bad stared at the blue flames by Schlatt’s coffin. No matter how much the structures were destroyed, it’d never went out ever since he lit it. He wondered why.

He bowed to the dead a second time. “Rest in Peace, JSchlatt.”

The people of L’Manburg is holding a funeral for Wilbur Soot, despite his ghost still remaining by their side like a grumpy fairy godmother. Unlike Schlatt’s funeral, there had been more people attending. Dream, Technoblade and Team Chaos – they were all there and invited. Nearly the entire server was there when they buried Wilbur’s body.

All except for BadBoyHalo.

The day the funeral was announced, it was clear that Bad was not welcome within the walls of L’Manburg nor will he ever be. He was banned from ever showing up to Wilbur’s funeral, per Tommy’s threats and Tubbo’s orders. Bad sat alone in his mansion, brewing potions all by himself, accompanied by nothing but silence and the potion’s bubbling ambience.

Skeppy had offered to stay back, along with Ant and Sam, but Bad told them they should go. Despite being an enemy, it was only right that they show up if the others did. So they left Bad, and into L’Manburg for the first president’s burial.

Bad sighed and corked the last potion he brewed. He set them aside with the others and laid his head on the table, using his arms as a pillow.

The voices started as soon as he closed his eyes.

_BadBoyHalo._

_I thank you…_

_I have overlooked you before._

_But thank you._

Bad’s eyes snapped open to find himself in his bed, tucked away in his blankets and his glasses taken off. He pushed himself up and looked around, only to find Sam sitting by him, his head and neck wrapped in bandages.

“Sam?” Bad asked. “What happened to you? Are you okay?”

Sam’s eyes were glued on the netherwood floor.

“Schlatt is back.” Sam turned to the windows. Only then did Bad notice the craters in the ground, affecting everywhere except his mansion. “And he wants revenge.”

Bad spent his night repairing the damage that was done to his builds. He gathered enough materials to patch up the mansion the night before, so he worked whilst everyone slept. At least, most of them. Ant was a cat, so he could stay up at night if he wanted to. Though, Ant chose to go on a quest to find a villager that sold quartz, so they needn’t venture in the nether unless it was absolutely necessary.

When he repaired Skeppy’s statue, he sat on the edge of the roof, legs dangling in air. From up there, he could see plenty of things that were otherwise invisible when he was on the ground. He saw the ruined land that was once fertile and beautiful and rich of life, now filled with craters and magma and poisoned earth. He saw figures in a distance, patching up a building that he recognized as the podium.

It was worse than the revolution. At least Wilbur didn’t lava. Now, he saw Fundy struggle to get rid of a pool of lava without falling in. It was destruction that Dream would never have dreamed of creating.

Yet somehow, Badlands was the only place unaffected.

He was blamed for this, of course. There was no other way to it.

Bad still didn’t know what happened during Wilbur’s funeral, and he didn’t ask. Skeppy and Ant were badly injured, so Sam tended to them while Bad handled the perimeters. As long as he kept all the hate and attention on him, they wouldn’t be targeted, and only him would face the consequences that would happen.

He made his way to Schlatt’s funeral site again. Like he expected, it was ruined beyond comparison, without one block remaining. What remained of it was a crater that could compare to the day of the revolution. Bad wouldn’t be able to repair this, at least not without a week’s work.

But somehow, the blue fires still burned in the crater, never going out even as the rain poured down.

_Do you see why I banished TommyInnit and Wilbur Soot now?_

_Do you see why it must be done?_

_Look at what happened when Tubbo reigned. Look at what happened to the world after they took over with violence. I was a bad president, but I caused no destruction. Look at all the sorrow and devastation those savages caused._

_Revive me, BadBoyHalo. REVIVE ME._

_Revive me, and I will give you your rightful place as my **vice president**._

_I can help you, but that help must go both ways._

Join me.

Bad woke to a pool of sweat. Clutching his blankets, his eyes frantically scanned the room looking for a sign of anomaly. He found none. The sun was beginning to set, but he’d only just awoken from his sleep. His sleep schedule was altered from everybody else, which gave him hours of peace and quiet of alone time. But this time, he wasn’t alone, nor was there peace or quiet. There was someone standing by his bed, staring down at him.

“Ah, you finally awake!” Schlatt exclaimed, clapping his ghostly hands. “I forgot what sleep feels like. By the way, you need to fix your sleep schedule.”

Bad stared at the ghost, his hair still a mess. He rubbed his eyes, reached for his glasses, and put them on.

Schlatt was still there. He winked at Bad.

Bad screamed.

Within seconds, loud footsteps echoed from the corridor outside his room, followed by his door being slammed down from its hinges. It was Ant, hair equally messy and frantic like Bad, but his eyes turned to slits as he whipped to his screaming friend. “Bad, what happened? Is everything okay?”

Bad scrambled from his bed, grabbed his sword that leaned on his bedframe and pointed it to Schlatt. As it swung, it phased right through his chest, and sliced through nothing but thin air. He lost his center of balance as soon as he was off the bed, causing him to stumble backwards, knocking over an armor stand behind him. It fell to the ground in pieces, the pieces of diamond and netherite armor clattering to the floor.

Panting heavily, he leaned on the obsidian pillar, forcing himself to look at the man. Schlatt—or, his ghost—stood there, his arms crossed and frowning at Bad’s erratic behavior. Bad swore that he saw him mouth, _are you okay?_ but he was too overwhelmed to hear any of it. He wasn’t sure whether if he heard the man or dreamt of him speaking.

“Bad?” Ant asked again, concerned for his friend. “You there?” He stepped into the room, careful to avoid the fallen door. They would need to fix that later. “Did something happen?”

The brunet whipped to his friend, aghast. “Do—” Bad swallowed bitter bile. “Are you blind, Ant?” He pointed his sword at Schlatt, who raised his arms in surprise. “He’s right there. This shouldn’t be possible. I—you—” He released a shaky breath, turning to the dead man. His voice cracked as he got the words out his throat. “How are you… here?”

Ant frowned, moving forward with his hands up. He scanned the room, but his face was still clouded with concern. “Bad, you’re hallucinating,” he decided. “You haven’t been sleeping much, have you?”

“Ant! How can you say that? I’m perfectly fine,” Bad snapped. “Look at him! He’s right there!” He gestured at Schlatt, arms flailing wildly. “Open your stupid cat eyes, Ant!”

Ant turned to where he was gesturing, but he saw nothing. Cats had sharper senses than a regular human being (not that Bad is a regular human being) but now there was nothing worth of concern. Other than the knocked over armor stand that Bad nearly tripped over, everything was in place.

“Bad, please, get some sleep.” Ant knelt down to the door and picked it up by the knob. He hefted it over his shoulder and turned to his friend. “I’ll go replace this door, but you should go back to sleep. The Badlands needs you, especially when L’Manburg is blaming us for the spiritual attack.”

“He’s right there!” Bad insisted, still pointing at air.

Ant wasn’t convinced by the slightest. He raised his eyebrow and left with Bad’s door. There goes door #14. Rest In Pieces, Door #14.

The moment Ant left, Bad blocked off the entrance with cobblestone. Sighing, he rubbed his temples and eyes, dreading the continuation of this situation. When he turned back to his room, Schlatt was there, now leaning on the obsidian pillar with a bored face.

“How do I know you’re not part of my imagination?”

Schlatt turned to him. “What?”

“Are you real, or is my brain playing tricks on me?” Bad wisped. He just woke up, but he was so, so exhausted. “Was that you? The voices I’ve been hearing in my head. Are you responsible for all of them?”

“I am.”

Bad stared at him. “Prove it.”

Schlatt tilted his head and tapped his chin, devising a way to prove his existence and Bad’s not going mental just yet. For seconds, he couldn’t think of a convincing argument, until a thought flashed over his head. He turned back to the brunet, grinning like he just won the lottery.

“Here’s my proof,” Schlatt said dramatically, as if preparing a gender reveal party. “Fuck.”

Bad dropped himself on his bed in pure shock.

“That… unless you think about words like fuck, shit, motherfucker, ass, asshat, dipshit, Quackity, cunt—”

“No! Do not continue.” Bad raised his hand to stop him before he could list off an encyclopedia’s worth of profanity. “I believe you. But please, cease and desist.”

“I’m a ghost coming to haunt you and you still care about my profanity?” Schlatt mused. Folding his arms behind his back, he leered close to Bad, grinning. “Tommy was right about you; you _are_ a peculiar man. Hosting a funeral for a bloodthirsty tyrant that nobody liked… building a statue for Tommy, a sworn enemy who killed your friends… tolerating _incompetency_ and these barbaric actions towards you – I really don’t know how you do it.” He straightened himself, adjusting his red tie.

 _“It’s almost like you_ want _them to step all over you.”_

Bad didn’t react to the provocation, as if he was used to hearing similar words being used to describe him. He was completely numb to the insult and description.

“Am I the only one who could see you?” Bad whispered. Schlatt nodded. “Why is that?”

Schlatt hummed. “You lit the flames, BadBoyHalo.” He turned towards the window. Despite being nothing but a ghost, Bad could see his reflection in the stained glass. His facial expression was thoughtful and one of wistfulness. Bad felt his fists clench. “You were the only one that respected my death. _You_ lighted the path for my last journey when no one else did.”

He faced Bad, with one hand folded below his chest. “And for that, I thank you.” He bowed down. “I owe the fact that my conscious remains to you. Because you honored and at least, _tried_ to preserve my body.” A shudder ran through his ghostly spine. “As a matter of fact, I can still sense TommyInnit and Tubbo playing catch with my right leg. They are horrible at it.”

“That’s awful!”

“Yeah, it really is.” Schlatt scrunched his nose. “Anyways, I’m not here to chit chat. I guess you should already know why I’m here.”

Bad remained silent, but the words still remained fresh in his mind. _Revive me_. _Join me_. How could he forget them, when they were the reason why he couldn’t sleep at night?

“I’m afraid I can’t bring you back,” Bad confessed.

Schlatt’s smile faltered. “Why not?” he demanded. “If what Dream said was true, then you are one of the only people in this place that has access to the console. If anyone can do it, it’s you. You have the power to manipulate reality. You could do whatever you want.”

Bad looked to his feet. He wouldn’t meet Schlatt’s eyes. Why would Dream tell Schlatt about this? If Dream had sold information as valuable as this to the tyrant, then he always knew that Schlatt would one day meet his end. No one in this server knew who had access to consoles or who were the Operators. By telling Schlatt, Dream was basically guaranteeing that Schlatt would bring this secret to the grave. No one could survive knowing who wielded the true power in this world.

Bad buried his face in his hands. “It’s not that simple.” His voice turned deeper. “If I bring you back, Badlands would be in a worse position than before. My friends are already getting targeted because of me, because we have Tommy’s disc and I hosted your funeral. I’m in no position to bring you back – if Dream finds out, he’s going to do everything in his power to eradicate everything I worked so hard on. He’s going to execute my friends and me as an example to this world.”

Why was he so tired? He was tired, but he couldn’t sleep a wink. He wanted a release for this exhaustion, but he dreaded lying on his bed and closing his eyes. Especially with a former president standing in his room, his presence only noticed by him and him only. To the others, he would only be seen as a psychopath.

Schlatt rubbed his goatee in thought. “Hm, you’re right.” Bad was thankful he didn’t push the matter. If he were still alive, he would’ve been unreasonable and demanded him to resurrect him. Perhaps death granted him the clarity he never had before when he’d been alive. “Then, let’s come to a compromise. A deal, if you’d like.”

Bad looked up. His green eyes were dead and lifeless. “What do you want, Schlatt?”

There was a victorious glint in his gaze. For a second, he looked like a demon with his goat horns, and Bad felt as if he were making a deal with the devil. “Join me.” Schlatt held an arm out for Bad to shake. “Join me, BadBoyHalo. I’ll find a way to come back to life. Then, you will be by my side as the rightful vice-president of _Manburg_. Badlands will still be yours, and we will take over the Dream SMP together. The world will be ours!”

He was getting louder by the second, but Bad didn’t think anyone but himself could hear him. He was drained of energy, but he still knew that Schlatt’s thirst for power transcends even after death. Even as a bodiless spirit, he yearned for power and control. He wanted to rule over the people who once forsaken him. Power and Greed – they were scary things. It drives people to their graves. It would be the only tale that historians will write, forever reciting one’s bloody conquest for power.

The was sounded terrifying. It was a dance with the devil. They would be dancing under a red moon, the floor bursting into lava as they miss one single step. The consequences were deadly, but the deal was an intoxicating madness. To be overwhelmed by the nectar only took one misstep. To be consumed by hatred only took one wrong glance. All for the sweet reward at the end – the leader of the lands, the king that ruled all the land. Wherever the shadows reign, it was their kingdom.

Bad didn’t want that power. He was afraid to own so much strength. One single misuse would lead to the tragic fate of his friends. Power was a double-edged blade that cut him and the people around him. It would drive him insane. But there was another side to it. Another page to the story.

But if he ruled over the lands, no one would dare to hurt his friends. Fear was a strong emotion, and it could be easily stimulated. It could be manipulated by the strong to keep the weaker in line. With the promise of safety and sanctuary, they would submit to their fear for a peaceful life. The cards were laid out for him, and he would play them like pieces on a chessboard. They would be round up like sheep.

Schlatt’s face broke into a grin as his open palm was met with another.

**Author's Note:**

> I was kinda sad when BBH was respectful to Schlatt's funeral but the others were all pissing on him. I mean, BBH is so nice that he held a funeral for a man that he barely knew. (in the lore, at least)


End file.
